


don’t make it easy on me

by bethchildz



Category: Dead To Me (TV)
Genre: F/F, Post-Season/Series 02, this one is a ride you guys...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:55:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25358815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bethchildz/pseuds/bethchildz
Summary: “She had always believed in karma. And how fitting, she thought, that her life had turned out like this.”Judy blames herself for the accident. Jen is struggling with her injuries and her own self-sabotage. They’re both tangled in a web of lies. Sometimes, it takes a while to let yourself be helped.
Relationships: Judy Hale/Jen Harding
Comments: 135
Kudos: 174





	1. bad karma

**Author's Note:**

> Hooo boy, buckle up for this one! I don’t think angst is really my strong suit, and Judy is extremely difficult to write, but I had this floating around in my head and here we are. I don’t normally write multi-chapters so this could be a disaster but I’ve written half of chapter 2 already and there will probably be about 4 or so? Hopefully around about 3-4k each. Anyway….here we goooo! 
> 
> Trigger warnings for hospitals, self-harm and in general lots of self-hate and guilt.

She had always believed in karma. 

She liked the idea that the sum of your actions – both in this life and otherwise – had a profound effect on the fate of your future. It comforted her as a child, the idea of destiny, of something bigger than herself, something carved out before she was born: a constellation that would continue, each day, to map out the path of her life. 

She spent a lot of her childhood and teen years reading about the concept, finding herself, on weeks where her mother would leave her entirely to her own devices, sitting cross-legged on the library floor with her nose in a book, her mind consumed by stories of long-lost lovers reuniting after they turned their lives around, and occasionally, the darker stories, the ones where lives would crumble after one terrible mistake.

She had always believed in karma. And how fitting, she thought, that her life had turned out like this.

Of course it wasn’t a coincidence, that she’d ended up involved in two car accidents within the space of a year. These things didn’t happen to ordinary people – _good_ people – and Judy had never thought of herself as someone _good,_ someone worthy of a happy ending. She still thought of herself as that abandoned child, too broken and clingy to deserve to be cared for. _Stupid Judy, never doing what she’s told._ That’s what her mother would say, and even now, she felt the words as she carried them in her body; a reminder, like a scar she wore, that she would never be good enough. As far as she was concerned, this was her fate. This was karma working its cruel magic; this was what she deserved for lying all those months ago, for killing a man with her foot on the gas, for locking her mother behind bars and throwing away the keys. 

She understood, with a knowledge that made her chest burn, why chaos seemed to follow everywhere she went, and why everything she touched seemed to burst into flames; she understood this was her punishment, for always wishing for more – more attention from her mother, from Steve, for wanting a family of her own, for wanting to feel held, to feel loved, when all she ever did was _hurt_ and cause pain. But God, Jen didn’t deserve any of this. She had a family to protect and to love; she had already suffered the loss of the father to her children and her own mother to cancer. This was _her_ fate, not Jen’s. 

But here Jen was, unconscious in a hospital bed. And it was all Judy’s fault.

  
  


*****

  
  


Sometimes she dreamt it was Jen she hit that night.

The screech of the tires burned with a searing heat: a dread and a loss she felt reverberate in her body long after she was awake, leaving in its path a neat line of red scratches along the front of her thigh. 

Today was one of those days, and the dream sat heavy on Judy’s shoulders as she shook herself awake. She was sitting in the chair opposite Jen’s bed, and under the luminous hospital lights, her blonde hair seemed to glow. There was no blood to find there, Judy noticed, still half-awake; the nurses must have cleaned her up as she was sleeping. What remained were a few stitches to her temple – so small, so superficial – but the bruising around her forehead had now blossomed, as if overnight, into an array of blue-purple patterns, and if Judy closed her eyes, she could feel the steering wheel beneath her fingers; she could hear the sickening _thump_ of a body hitting her car. Jen’s body.

But it hadn’t been Jen she hit that night – not that that seemed to matter. She was in a hospital bed, now, with a moderate to severe head injury. She was unconscious because Judy couldn’t stay away. Because she brought bad luck into a family that only ever deserved happiness.

Attempting to shake off the dream, Judy listened intently to the mechanical beeping of Jen’s heartbeat on the monitor beside the bed. She waited until she felt her own pulse match the pace before she allowed herself to cry, a real, honest cry, one that crept from the depths of her stomach and exited her body in a wail loud enough that for a moment, she thought someone might hear. 

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” she repeated, almost deliriously, her hands bunching into fists in her own hair. 

“Please, please wake up, Jen. The boys need you,” she whispered through her tears, her voice thin and broken. She wanted to say, _I need you,_ and she almost allowed the words to hang heavy in the air around them, but she snapped her mouth shut before she could. _Stupid Judy, always asking for more._ This wasn’t about her, she reminded herself with a brisk hit to the side of her face, she had no right to need Jen now, not when her boys were currently parentless – one buried in the ground as a direct result of Judy’s actions, and one hanging on by a thread. 

She hit herself again, slightly harder this time, and she flinched with the pain of it. Her cheek stung, but she lifted her hand again, ready to strike another blow, when the hospital door opened, and a kind-looking doctor entered the room. He was oblivious, it appeared, to the way Judy’s fists were now curling into the fabric of her dress.   
  


*****

  
  


She kept it together, outwardly at least, for the sake of the boys. They were suffering enough, and they didn’t need to see Judy break down too. She told herself she would be strong for them, for Jen, but she saw the way Charlie looked at her, as though he saw right through her, and perhaps, like he knew something he shouldn’t. He reminded her so much of his mother: so intuitive, but so quick to run from his own emotions. She held him anyway, despite his fighting, because she knew he needed it, and really, because it was all she could do to stop herself from breaking apart. 

Henry was as much an angel as ever, latching on to Judy’s waist whenever he had the chance. It pulled at her heart, piece by piece, every time he looked up at her with tears in his eyes as he innocently asked, “Mom is gonna be okay, isn’t she?”

“Of course she is,” she always managed between tears, hoping he was too young to notice the way her voice hitched with fear. 

Afterwards, she’d lock herself in the bathroom, allowing every pent up emotion to unleash with an open palm against her own head, or her nails digging grooves into her arms and thighs. She covered the marks with her frills; her floral dresses and her corduroy jackets a discreet disguise, one she carried with a small smile and a matching pair of boots. The evidence of her dysfunctional mind remained hidden behind the walls of a hospital bathroom, or between the sheets of Jen’s bed. (She only allowed herself to leave the hospital once, when the boys were so sleep-deprived she was worried for their health, and she found herself curled up between the blankets, breathing in the scent of her and crying her pain into the pillowcase).

Every night, wrapped up in the chair that she pulled up beside Jen, she whispered an apology into her hospital gown and held her hand tightly – the only thing tethering her to the ground. It was the least she could do. To be here, to hold her hand. 

It wasn’t that she hadn’t felt like this before – she knew guilt, she’d spent the majority of her life with it occupying the space beside her in bed, curling around her at night like a lover – but something felt different this time. She felt it in the way her nightmares were only becoming more frequent, and each with the same inevitable end: Jen being taken away from her, and it was _her_ fault, it was always Judy’s fault. 

It should’ve been her. She should be the one lying in that bed, unconscious, but all she had was a scratch.

She had always believed in karma. Was it hers, to sit and watch her best friend suffer, when it was all her fault?

  
  


*****

  
  


“I know you’re not okay,” Charlie blurted out one day, a week later. The doctor had told them Jen was looking a lot better, and perhaps even expected her to wake up in a few days, but Judy still held her breath, as though she couldn’t possibly deserve a second chance (or third, or fourth). 

“What do you mean?” Judy asked, her tone too high-pitched, too forced to pass as casual, even to her own ears.

“You think I don’t notice, but I do. I’m not a stupid kid.”

He had his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans, and despite his ruffled hair from the lack of decent sleep and the old hoodie he was wearing that was two sizes too big (most likely Ted’s, she thought with a slight pang in her chest), he looked so grown up. 

“Of course you’re not,” she smiled, though it was strained too. 

Charlie leaned against the vending machine in the hospital’s waiting room, and turned his eyes away from Judy’s for a moment before speaking again.

“You’re trying to be strong for us, I get it,” he shrugged, “but you can tell me the truth. I won’t tell Henry.”

“I’m fine, Charlie. Don’t worry about it, okay?” She leaned forward, aiming to squeeze his arm gently, but he turned away from the touch. The rejection made Judy flinch, and she recoiled, bringing her arm close to her body. Without thinking, she found herself muttering, “I’m sorry” under her breath. 

“I know what happened,” Charlie said, and Judy thought her legs might give out.

“Hm?” She tried her best to sound nonchalant, though she knew it was pointless. Her forehead was sweating, and the floor seemed unstable beneath her heels.

“With my mom and Steve,” he said, his voice turning to a whisper, “she killed him, didn’t she?”

“Charlie, I—”

“I found the letters, Judy. Don’t lie.”

It was strange, the moments in life when a few simple words managed to cause a buzzing so loud in her ears she thought she might be about to pass out. She thought of the last time, sitting outside a hospital room as the nurse attempted to console her, the news of the loss of her baby (her fifth baby) ricocheting through her mind with an intensity that left her dizzy. All she heard was the ringing, the sickening static that clouded her senses and made her heart beat faster beneath her chest bone. She felt it now, the distinct pulsing in her ears, and she knew the colour had drained from her face.

“I knew it,” he said, breathing a low, dark laugh. 

“It’s complicated.” She cringed at the uselessness of her own words, how out of her depth she sounded. She needed Jen more than ever, and the thought sent a fresh pang of guilt straight through her gut. 

“Yeah, whatever,” he rolled his eyes, trying to push past her to get back to his brother.

“Wait, Charlie, please. Listen,” she stopped him, softening her face for a moment to look at him with pleading eyes. She loved this boy like a son. 

“I’ll tell you the truth, okay? We both will. When your mom wakes up,” she smiled through tears. This time, she managed to hold him by the shoulders and he didn’t try to run. 

“You don’t think she will though, right? I told you, I’m not stupid. I see the way you try to hide that you’ve been crying. You’re fucking shitty at it, by the way,” he scoffed and turned his eyes away. He sounded so much like Jen, and Judy couldn’t help it. The sobs came out one by one, loud and uncensored, in the middle of the waiting room, and Henry was soon rushing to her side, grabbing at her dress and pulling her into him.

“Judy! What’s happening? Is Mom okay?” 

“Yeah, buddy. She’s gonna be just fine. Let’s go check on her, okay? Go on, I’ll meet you,” she said, wiping away her tears. She squeezed his shoulder once before he ran off in the direction of his mother’s room. 

“She will wake up,” she said, turning to Charlie when Henry was out of earshot. “Your mom, she’s so strong. She’ll fight this, okay?”

He nodded once before turning to follow his brother, throwing her one last scowl over his shoulder – a promise that this conversation was far from over. When she was sure he could no longer see, she allowed herself to lean hard against the wall, the sobs tearing through her body with a force that left her clutching at herself, doubled over and gasping for breath.

The rough hands of a stranger wrapping themselves around her shoulder brought her back into her body, and with a slight gasp and a small “thank you,” whispered in their direction, she got to her feet. 

This was her karma, she told herself, over and over again.

*****

As her luck would have it, she wasn’t there when Jen woke up. _Stupid Judy, can’t do anything right._ Of course she’d choose today to catch up on sleep, and Jen had to wake up to find Lorna by her bed (she’d probably rather go back to sleep). Luckily, she had the boys, and when she did make her way through the door, she found the three of them wrapped in a group hug, Lorna hovering awkwardly nearby.

“Judy! Mom’s awake!” Henry called out, a huge grin on his face. 

“I can see that,” Judy smiled – a genuine smile, this time, one that actually met her eyes. Jen looked over at her with a tired and slightly pained grin of her own, but her eyes were soft, and she looked so relieved, that for a moment Judy forgot the dread and the guilt that had been building in the pit of her stomach ever since the crash.

“Come over here,” Jen managed to whisper, her voice husky with the drugs and the roughness of more than a week without talking. 

Henry was the one to pull her into the hug, her head soon finding a home on Jen’s shoulder, and she let herself breathe in the distinct smell of hospitals and Jen, and didn’t hold back the tears that soon dampened the material of her gown.

“Well, I know the doctor said it was okay for visitors but don’t you think Jennifer needs her space?” Lorna’s perfectly excruciating voice came from somewhere outside the periphery of Judy’s consciousness, barely registering through the rush of this feeling: Jen’s body pressed against her cheek.

“Oh, Jesus, Lorna, give us a moment will you?” 

Judy felt the words as much as she heard them, still a whisper, but with the same disdain as always, and despite everything, she chuckled into her shoulder, wrapping her arms a little tighter around her body, careful not to cause any pain. Before she knew it, Lorna was leaving, muttering something inaudible that nobody seemed to hear. 

It was easy to pretend that the worst was over.

  
  


*****

The first day back home was a difficult one; Charlie was trying to pretend like nothing was wrong, and Judy was going along with it, but there was a strange tension hanging in the air, one that even Henry seemed to pick up on.

“What’s going on with Char?” Jen asked as soon as they were alone. “I know he can be a dickhead but I did think he’d be more excited to have me back.” She chuckled a little, but it clearly caused her pain and she winced, Judy quickly rushing to her side.

“Careful,” she said, wrapping her arm around her waist. 

“Seriously, did you see the way he stormed upstairs when we got in? Am I that much of an asshole?”

Judy instantly felt her whole body stiffen, the guilt contorting her face so that she visibly winced. She hid her face in Jen’s shoulder and slowly tried to slow her racing heart, preparing herself for the lie she was about to tell. (How often would it come to this? Lying to those she loved? No wonder she had bad karma.)

“It was hard for him seeing you in the hospital. But he’s trying his best, Jen. He was worried about you.”

“Yeah? He could show it a little,” she said before cringing, “God, I really am a dick, aren’t I?” 

It was supposed to be an offhand comment, maybe even a joke, but Judy could see the pain behind her eyes, the one she tried every day to hide; it showed in the creases of her forehead and the way her lips were slightly downturned. It seemed to mirror hers, this heaviness they both carried on their shoulders, and for a second she paused, wanting to reach out and tell the truth. But then the moment was over, and Jen was limping into the kitchen muttering something about how much wine she could get away with drinking while still high on painkillers.

That night, Judy tried to hold her closer, murmuring reassurances into her shoulder, but in the end, she still found herself crying into her pillow in the guesthouse, hoping tomorrow would be easier.

*****

She got used to tiptoeing around the house, holding another secret deep in her chest like she was born to do it. She forced smiles over breakfast and helped Henry with his homework, and sometimes, when Jen would let her, she’d help her up from the couch or into bed, and they watched reruns of _Facts of Life_ like always. They didn’t try to find the asshole who hit them. They didn’t speak about the accident at all.

It played on her mind though, every single night, as she tossed and turned and stared at the ceiling. The conversation with Charlie left her with a permanent headache, something dull and monotonous and everything she deserved. He hadn’t mentioned it, but she knew what else was written in that letter. Something that left her nights sleepless because the walls around her suddenly seemed full of Ted again, like when she first moved in and she’d forced herself to sleep outside. It seemed to taunt her, the memory of it, the way the room had still smelled of someone else’s life (the life she had taken away). It sat in her stomach now, the knowledge that Charlie knew, and she wanted to rip it out and run away and soothe him all at once. She wanted to hold him and apologise and she wanted to beg from her knees for forgiveness. Tonight, she held her baby blanket under her nose and inhaled. She curled into herself and held on to the softness of it like it could take her away from herself and every single mistake she had made.

When Charlie brought it up again her world didn’t quite tilt with the same vengeance as the first time, but she felt herself wobble, and she willed herself to keep her feet firmly pressed to the ground.

“You said you were gonna talk to me when Mom was awake. She’s been home for like over a fucking week.”

“We will! I just haven’t found the right time to bring it up,” she said through a wince. “She’s still in a lot of pain…”

He scoffed.

They were talking in hushed whispers in the kitchen, Jen somewhere upstairs, and Judy felt as though her life was running entirely off course. 

“My mom is a fucking murderer and you won’t even tell me why?”

For a second, she almost brought up his language. As if that was the thing that mattered right now, that he was cursing. 

“It wasn’t her fault. It was self-defence,” she heard herself whispering. Another lie. She steeled herself, taking a deep breath before continuing. “Steve wasn’t a good guy, and he was involved with a lot of bad people. Your mom was just protecting you, okay? She was protecting all of us.”

Something about that felt true. She could admit that now, finally, that Steve wasn’t who she wanted him to be. She still missed him sometimes, perhaps in a masochistic type of way – she had always been attracted to things she could fix, even if it broke her in the process – but it hurt less now, like that particular wound was slowly healing.

Charlie looked down, as if he was processing what she said, and nodded slightly in acknowledgment.

“I can believe that,” he finally said, and Judy felt her body loosen, like she could breathe again. But then he shuffled slightly on his feet, turning away from her to stare at something behind her shoulder, and something in the air shifted. The buzzing in her ears was back again. “But what did it mean? In the letter, what Mom said about you and my dad?”

She couldn’t open her mouth, even if she tried. Her eyes were wide; so wide they were probably giving her away, and no, she couldn’t work her way out of this one. 

“Did you hit him? Is that what it meant? How the fuck did Mom forgive you?” 

And that was it. How _had_ she forgiven her? How had she welcomed Judy back into her house, her home – occasionally even the bed where Ted had slept beside her – as though she had always belonged there? Her heart pounded in her chest, and she curled her hands hard into fists at her side, digging her nails deep into her palm. It hurt, more and more the harder she pressed, and so she continued until she knew she had broken skin. 

“I’m so sorry,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. She spoke the words with a lump in her throat, and it came out croaky and insufficient. But she meant it. She meant it with everything she could possibly muster.

Charlie just seemed to stare at her, a fire burning behind his eyes. He was angry – that much she could tell – but there was something else too, as though he was trying to finish a puzzle without all the pieces. Then, a light flickered over his face, a realisation, before his eyes sunk again, his jaw held tight. 

“She’s in love with you, isn’t she? That’s why. Jesus, this is fucked.” 

And of all the possible things Judy imagined he could say, that was not one of them. 


	2. she’s in love with you, isn’t she?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jen struggles with her injuries and Judy gets a little confessy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to update this quite quickly because chapter 3 will probably take a little longer to get up. Thank you for all the comments on chapter 1 ❤️

In hindsight, she should have seen it.

She was in love with Jen. 

It wasn’t that she had never thought of her best friend in that way before; she loved women, and she had _eyes,_ but perhaps it was more so that she never allowed herself the privilege of imagining something more. Not with Jen. Not when she had given her so much already. She had no right to imagine a life where she woke up next to her every day, or kissed her every night before bed, or a life where she touched her and was touched back, because who in the right mind would fall in love with the woman who killed their husband?

Charlie’s outburst seemed to suffocate and enlighten all at once. She felt herself shaking her head, though she couldn’t say why, and all of a sudden she was saying something like, “No, no, Charlie, it isn’t like that.” But he was rolling his eyes and staring her down, unflinching and angry, and Judy couldn’t take it anymore. 

She wasn’t sure how she made her exit, or if Charlie had been the one to storm out first, but suddenly Judy found herself crumpled on the floor of the guesthouse, her head resting against her knees, and she was crying again, as though it was all she could do.

Vaguely, somewhere outside the space between her own legs, she heard the door open and close. She couldn’t bring herself to move.

“Judy?” Jen’s voice was high and concerned and still slightly groggy from the medication she was taking, and it only made Judy cry harder.

“Hey, hey, honey, come here, it’s okay,” she said, rushing to the bed. “Come here.” She patted the blankets beside her; Judy could hear the rustle of fabric, and slowly, she allowed herself to look up. “I’d come down to you, Jude, but I don’t think I’d make it back up again.” She was smiling, and the scar on her temple seemed to twitch as she moved. 

“God, Jen, I’m sorry, your back—you should be resting!” Judy scrambled to her feet at once, patting down her dress as though it would straighten out her emotions, and she came to sit next to Jen, checking her for new injuries or any sign of overexertion. 

“I’m pretty sure I can handle sitting down.” She rolled her eyes, playfully pushing away Judy’s hands, but she was looking at her with a soft expression on her face, something warm and worried, and suddenly Judy heard Charlie’s words echo in her mind. _She’s in love with you, isn’t she?_

The tears seemed to fall of their own accord, and Jen’s arms were around her in seconds, pulling her into her chest like always. Judy’s eyes fluttered shut at the contact, and just for a moment, she let herself lean in. 

There was comfort here, despite it all, in the arms of a woman she loved. In the arms of a woman she had hurt beyond repair.

  
  


*****

  
  


It was only a matter of time before Jen found out. As much as Judy tried to pretend otherwise, Charlie wouldn’t look her in the eye and he stormed upstairs after dinner every night. Judy tried her best to keep the peace, smiling as though her life depended on it, and spending most of her evenings in the kitchen baking cherry pies just so she could see that glow in Jen’s eyes when she smelt it cooking. (After the fifth, it was clear Jen was getting suspicious). 

“I don’t think getting me fat is really what the doctor had in mind, Judes,” she laughed, though Judy could tell there was something like insecurity in her voice.

“You’re beautiful,” she said honestly, and Jen just rolled her eyes. 

There was something different, today, in the way Jen then leaned over and bumped their shoulders together. She had a smirk on her face, and if she had been anyone else, if this had been any other situation, Judy would have said it was suggestive, even flirty. The contact seemed to set Judy’s body on fire – a desire that curled and fell somewhere in her gut with something that felt a lot more like guilt – and she knew she wouldn’t last much longer. 

As if to prove her point, when Charlie got home that evening to find Jen and Judy curled up on the couch, wrapped in each other’s arms, he stared at them, disbelief and anger written all over his face, before muttering an almost inaudible “unbelievable” and running up the stairs. Judy felt as much as she heard the sigh that left Jen’s body like a physical weight on her shoulders. 

It slipped out a few days later, after one too many wines, because Jen was looking at her with a crease between her eyebrows and the cherry pie was long gone.

“I don’t know what to do about Charlie,” she was saying, “He’s being a fucking twat and this time I don’t even know what I did.”

“You didn’t do anything,” Judy said, her voice a whisper. She’d been here before, watching with her heart in her mouth as Jen blamed herself for something she had done. This was her bad karma, she told herself again; this was the solid, unwavering proof that she was not a good person.

Jen scoffed. “Yeah, well, he fucking hates me.”

“No…” 

“Yes he does, Judy! He won’t even look me in the fucking eye!”

“Jen…”

“I told you, I’m a fucking terrible mother and he knows it. I’m surprised he hasn’t run off back to fucking Lorna again.” She took a sip of her wine, and for a second Judy could pretend this was just like any other conversation, but it was clear she was on the verge of tears. Judy swallowed hard and closed her eyes. This was it.

“No, Jen. He hates me.”

“What? You said it yourself, Jude, he’s just an asshole teenager who can’t process his emotions. He doesn’t hate you.” She reached over, grabbing Judy’s hand and squeezing it gently. When she smiled, it was pained and empathetic. _She’s in love with you, isn’t she?_

“No he isn’t.” Her own tears were hot in her throat now, a lump that seemed to get bigger with every movement Jen’s face was making. She was looking at her with raised eyebrows: a question, and somewhere, a fear.

“He hates me,” she said again, louder this time. 

“Judy—”

“He knows.”

“What?” 

“He knows!”

“He knows what?” 

“He found the letters.”

The recognition seemed to flash through Jen’s eyes with a violence that pulled her backwards, her hand flinching away from Judy’s. Her face seemed to crumple, her body turning in on itself. Watching her, Judy wanted to cry out; she wanted to hold her until their shared pain seemed to vanish along with the wine that she could feel now, pulsing through her veins.

“I’m sorry, Jen, I should have hidden them better, I—”

“You fucking knew? All this time?” Her voice was cold, and far too quiet. It sent a shiver down Judy’s spine. 

“Jen…”

“What the fuck?” It was louder this time, and she could see the anger building behind her eyes. Around them, the wind seemed to pick up, whistling in Judy’s ears. She longed for a moment of stillness, something far away from here, something warm and safe. She curled her hands in her lap, pressing her nails into her thigh for comfort. 

“I’m so sorry,” she began, her voice thick with tears.

“My son knows I fucking killed someone.”

“Look, I explained, he doesn’t blame you, I—” she sniffled, “I told him about Steve. About…who he was.”

Jen was crying now, too. And that hit Judy harder, more than the guilt that clouded her senses and made her feel like at any moment the ground might swallow her whole. 

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?”

“You had just woken up, Jen! You had a head injury! I didn’t want to make it worse!” She reached for her again, for the warmth of her skin against hers, but she turned away. 

“Well, this is a whole lot fucking worse, Judy!” She yelled, getting to her feet. She began to pace back and forth, picking up the second bottle of wine that sat on the table before them and taking a long swig straight from the bottle.

“I’m so sorry, Jen. I wanted to tell you, I-I tried.”

“Oh, fuck off. When?”

Judy looked down at her hands again, running her thumb over the scar on her palm from the day Charlie had confronted her. She rubbed and rubbed until she felt the pain shoot through her fingers. 

“Yeah, right,” Jen scoffed. “Jesus, and he knows about Ted?” 

All Judy could do was nod. 

“Fuck.”

And when Jen stormed back into the house, taking the bottle of wine with her, Judy simply sat on the outdoor couch, staring at a spot somewhere next to the TV, and let herself feel it all: every regret and every mistake, tangled into one giant pile of guilt.

  
  


*****

  
  


Ever since the crash, Jen had taken her injuries with a stiff upper lip and occasionally a few winces here and there, punctuated with a cacophony of curses no more or less out of the ordinary than usual, though Judy could tell, as she observed her limping down the stairs every morning, how much pain she was truly in. She would never admit it. Judy helped, as best as she could, from the moment they got home. Sometimes Jen let her, and sometimes she pushed her away. But now, it was as though Judy wasn’t there at all, and Jen spent the majority of the day avoiding eye contact and pretending she wasn’t struggling.

She had spoken to Charlie, apparently, though Judy wasn’t sure how that conversation had gone because nobody was talking to her (apart from Henry, the absolute light of her life), and instead, she was left to read between the lines of a passive-aggressive Jen and a Charlie who no longer even joined them for dinner.

Today, she noticed the pain on Jen’s face with a direct blow to the chest; something she was used to, these days, but something sharp and painful nonetheless. She was trying to get up the stairs, one by one, but she had one hand grasping the back of her neck and one pressing hard against the wall beside her. 

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck,” she was muttering as she tried to take the next step, and Judy just couldn’t take it. She couldn’t stand there and watch Jen suffer, so she rushed to her side, wrapping her arms gently around her waist and guiding her to the top. Although she flinched at first, she allowed the contact, and when they got to the hallway she turned to face her.

“My back is fucking killing me. I hope that fucking asshole who hit us has a shitty fucking life.”

Judy nodded, but winced a little at the thought, because, yeah, they were an asshole, but what if they were sitting with the same guilt Judy had nursed over the past year? She hated herself for never being able to hate anyone. (Anyone but herself.)

“Let me help you to bed,” Judy said instead, her hand hovering somewhere near the small of Jen’s back. Almost as soon as the words left her mouth, Jen turned away from her.

“I don’t need fucking babysitting, Judy. I’m not an invalid.”

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly, stepping backwards, though Jen seemed to falter at that, and something in the way she hesitated gave Judy hope.

“I’ll be fine. Just go to bed,” she said, softer this time. 

Judy wanted to ask what had happened with Charlie, but something in the way Jen was looking at her right now, in the gentleness of her tone, made her feel like there was a lifeline here, a second chance, and she couldn’t bring herself to risk it.

“Okay. But let me know if you need anything.”

“Yeah, whatever. Thanks.”

*****

It kept happening: Judy finding Jen in various states of distress, taking on far more than she could handle with her chronic back pain and a head injury that still caused dizziness and fatigue. Every time she saw her struggling to reach something in the kitchen, or wincing if Henry hugged her too tight, Judy would automatically reach for her – a reflex, something her body had learned like it learned to breathe – before she reminded herself that Jen wasn’t speaking to her right now, not like before, and she seemed to curl back into herself every time with the realisation. 

“Are you and Mom mad at each other?” Henry asked her one day as she handed him a plate of pancakes. Charlie had already left for school even though it was far too early, and Jen had yet to surface from her bedroom. 

“Why’d you say that?” She tried to plaster a smile on her face, her words coming out high-pitched and obvious.

“Well…she seems sad. And most of the time when she’s sad, it’s because you’re sad too.”

The look on his face made her heart break just a little: his eyes wide and worried, his eyebrows furrowed with such an adult concern that seemed to surpass anything a ten year old should be capable of feeling. 

“Aw, Hen...I’m okay. We’re both okay,” she reached out to ruffle his hair. “I promise.”

“Okay...but you’re not gonna leave, are you? That’s not why Mom is upset?”

The words gave Judy a sense that she was falling, all of a sudden, like the floor was made of water.

“Of course not! I’m not going anywhere.” And to prove it, she rushed to his side, enveloping him in a crushing hug that he leaned into instantly. 

Before Judy could dwell on the question, and before she could acknowledge that the thought of leaving the safety of this family made her chest ache in a way it hadn’t even during the worst of her breakups, a crash from upstairs followed by a very loud “fucking fuck” caused the both of them to jump. 

“I think Mom might need your help.” 

Judy laughed at the innocence in his voice, ruffling his hair once more for good measure, and quickly rushed up the stairs.

“Jen?” She called out before she got to her bedroom door. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” the muffled voice came from somewhere in the bathroom.

“Jen? Are you okay?”

“Fucking fantastic!”

When she made her way to the source of the endless string of curses, Judy found Jen, half undressed, her shirt stuck over her head, leaning against the bathtub.

“Oh my god, Jen, did you fall?” 

“Flat on my ass,” Jen muttered from underneath her shirt, twisting slightly to turn away from the sound of Judy’s voice.

“Are you hurt?!” Judy asked, ignoring the way she was obviously trying to avoid her gaze, choosing instead to quickly pull off the shirt for her, throwing it somewhere behind them. If it had been another time, another place, Judy would have stopped to consider the way her heart fluttered. She would have stopped to appreciate how beautiful Jen looked right now, her hair messy with sleep, her chest flushed pink. She was still bruised – the left side of her face still mottled with purple and green – and her ribs were red and sore, but she looked gorgeous, and if it had been another time, another place, Judy might have commented on it.

But for now, she chose instead to simply take her hand in hers, holding it tightly. Maybe if she held her here, Jen could forgive her. Maybe it could be enough.

“It’s just my back.” Jen flinched as soon as she tried to move forwards, and Judy was quick to wrap her arms around her shoulders. “I need a fucking shower and I can’t even get up.”

“Here, let me help you,” Judy offered, using her strength to pull Jen to her feet. They struggled a little, Jen leaning most of her weight onto Judy’s shoulder, but they managed. “There you go.”

“This is truly fucking embarrassing,” Jen said, trying as quickly as she could (not without a grimace) to turn away from Judy’s lingering stare.

“No it’s not,” she said, a slight pout on her face. She wished she could see how willing she was, to see her, to help her. To hold her and let her crumble in her arms. 

“You can leave now.” Jen spat the words, and although Judy could no longer see her face, the tone alone was enough to have her recoiling, looking down a little at her feet.

“Oh. Okay. Uh, but if you, you know, need anything else…”

“I’m not gonna have you fucking bathe me, Judy. Jesus. Just leave me alone, okay? I can do this on my own.”

So Judy left, and she swore she wouldn’t cry the tears that began burning the corners of her eyes. If Jen needed her space, she would give her it. She would give her anything she wanted if that’s what it would take. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can anyone take a guess to what was said between Charlie and Jen 👀


	3. the sea and the shore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Judy jumps to conclusions and Jen isn’t telling the whole truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Sorry this chapter took a little while longer, it really did not want to be written. I don’t think I’ve ever spent so much time panicking about tiny word choices but I eventually figured I should just post the damn thing. Thank you so much, queenC_13, for being the best beta I could ask for ❤️
> 
> Trigger warning for a brief mention of suicide in this chapter.

In the days that followed, the space drawn between Jen and Judy seemed to engulf the house, cloaking a thin layer of fabric over everything they touched. 

Judy wasn’t used to this – holding back. She was an affectionate person, and space was never something she _needed_ (she had too much of it as a child); instead, what she craved was the warm touch of another’s body pressed against hers. Something grounding, something like a confirmation that she was wanted. Now, there was all this emptiness around her, too much vacant space, and she couldn’t anchor herself anymore. 

The dreams started again. 

It was slow at first, and the same as always. The tires were hot against the tarmac, her own scream shrill and burning her ears. Sometimes Steve was beside her, yelling insults that stung her skin like a slap, and other times she was alone – alone in the middle of the street and watching herself hit Jen, over and over again. 

There was something different this time, though. Charlie was there, standing beside the car and watching, his face blank and arms hanging uselessly by his side. His face was ghostly white, and he didn’t scream, he just stared at Judy, his eyes dark and endless. When she woke up she was screaming – a scream that reverberated in her chest and left her throat red and sore. The robe she slept in was sticking to her back, a sheen of sweat hanging heavy on her skin, and all she could do was try to breathe, but her gasps sounded foreign to her own ears as they bounced off the walls of the sunlit room around her. The clock read 5am, but Judy jumped from her bed, running into the bathroom and immediately running the shower as hot as it would go without leaving permanent damage. 

Jen found her in the kitchen making waffles a few hours later, and Judy could tell by the slight furrow of her eyebrows that she knew it’d been a bad night (she could tell by the dark circles under Jen’s eyes that she hadn’t slept either). Instead of mentioning it, they seemed to hover around each other, occasionally chasing eye contact like they were searching for something incommunicable – like if they saw each other, really _looked_ , it would be enough to undo every mistake they had made, like they could untangle the mess that only seemed to accumulate with the days, but like maybe neither of them really deserved it. They ate in silence, Judy biting the sides of her mouth to stop herself from talking; this might have been hard for her, but she would not break her promise, not when giving Jen space was perhaps the only thing she could do to salvage _something_ from the rubble she had made of their lives.

*****

It was a particularly bad day when things began to change. 

Judy felt it when she woke up; she felt the earth seem to shift a little beneath her feet. For a moment, she thought it might be an earthquake, and she waited for the inevitable crash of her crystals falling to the floor but nothing moved – everything was exactly where she had put it, simply waiting to be used again. It made her turn on her heels, and she began surveying the room around her as though the penny would drop at any moment. She realised, eventually, that her head was cloudy, her vision a little blurry, and there was a sickening ache building in the back of her neck. 

She hadn’t hit her head in the car crash, so it couldn’t be that; she was painfully aware of that fact, that it was Jen who was hurt, and she still carried that knowledge around with her like the beloved doll she used to bring to school every day as a child, buried in the bottom of her bag, but always within reach. It was only after the sleep had faded from her eyes that she realised she also had a fever. 

She was sick, and she was in a terrible mood. 

Judy was used to these moods, though she never showed it. She smiled through the pain, cloaking the fear and the anger building inside her chest with something like a cleverly practised optimism that seemed to put the people around her at ease, and so she walked into the kitchen that day with the intention of faking a smile, as though if she tried hard enough, she could sew the cracks in the household back together again. It was the least she could do – to provide, to put food on the table for a family she decimated, for a family who then welcomed her with open arms. 

She barely made it halfway through her frittata when she felt her consciousness fading out. It pulled at the edges of her vision slowly at first, and then all at once. She couldn’t catch herself before she slipped, and before she knew it she was out cold, her last memory a vague inclination of a voice somewhere distant in the background, calling her name. When she finally came to, the kitchen floor seemed too soft on her back, abnormally so, and she blinked once or twice before she realised she was on the couch and a face was hovering over her. The face was moving – perhaps speaking, Judy thought, but she couldn’t quite make it out. 

“Jude, hey, are you okay? You passed out for a second there,” the voice said, and almost immediately the world around her bounced back into full focus again, the blonde hair glowing golden under the living room lights. She noticed the soft lines around the eyes staring down at her, and despite herself, Judy found herself smiling.

“Jen…” 

“Yeah, honey, it’s me. Hey, hey, don’t move.” Jen was suddenly next to her, her hands coming to gently press her shoulders back down into the cushions.

“Why are you being nice to me?” Judy heard herself ask, and instantly she cursed herself for sounding so childlike, so needy. The silence that followed made her open her eyes a little wider, and she shifted a little to the side so she could see Jen’s expression. She found softness there, written in the crease between her eyebrows, but some kind of resistance too, something a little rough around the edges; and maybe it was the fever, or the way the air always seemed to smell like fresh linen and seasalt, but she suddenly found herself thinking of the beach – the sea and the shore, never one without the other. 

“Jesus, Jude, you blacked out in my fucking kitchen. What am I gonna do, kick you out?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” 

And really, it shocked her, the way the words tumbled from her mouth before she could rein them back in. She could maybe blame it on the fact she’d just fainted, or the headache that now spread further through her skull, sharp and poisonous and far less than enough, but there it was, floating in the space between their bodies before Judy even had time to taste the bitterness in her own voice. Jen opened her mouth as if to speak, but she hesitated, before simply moving Judy’s legs and sitting down beside her on the couch. She didn’t say anything more, but began rubbing small circles into Judy’s thighs and Judy let the touch lull herself back to sleep; this time her dreams were white and calm and full of the ocean.

  
  


*****

Jen didn’t talk about it, the way she looked after Judy when she was sick, but Judy held that day close to her heart when she felt things were almost too unbearable. Charlie stomped around the house like any teenage boy with an anger issue, but Judy could only imagine the insufferable pain he must be feeling, and she had to swallow down the bile that rose in her throat every time the thought of him, alone and struggling, crossed her mind.

It wasn’t his fault when he came into the kitchen one day while Judy was sipping a glass of wine and asked, “Has she talked to you yet?” 

“Uh—What do you mean?”

“Right, so she hasn’t. Should’ve known.” He rolled his eyes before turning to open the fridge, staring into it for a moment or two and then closing it again, empty handed.

“Charlie, what are you talking about?” Her voice suddenly sounded desperate, and immediately, she felt far too sober.

“God, does anyone ever fucking tell the truth in this house?” He yelled in response, purposefully loud enough, Judy assumed, so that Jen might be able to hear. “You should talk to her,” he said, quieter this time, and then he disappeared, Judy staring after him with her mouth slightly agape. She had no idea what he could possibly mean but his voice sounded softer than before, almost as if he was tolerating her being here, sitting in his kitchen with his mother’s wine glass, occupying the seat where his dad used to eat breakfast. But how could that possibly be true? 

She tried to shake it off, turning back to the safety of her wine glass before a thought popped in her head, and suddenly she couldn’t think of anything else. What if Jen really _was_ going to ask her to move out? It would make sense, wouldn’t it? Now that the cat was out of the bag, now that Charlie knew who she really was, how much she had hurt and tainted and lied, how could Jen possibly want her to stay? It didn’t take much for Judy to convince herself her fears were real, putting together the pieces in her mind one by one – the flinching if Judy got too close, the way she’d purposefully avoid eye contact whenever the boys were in the same room, the way it always seemed like Jen held a secret under her tongue, like every word she spoke seemed to mean something else entirely. Maybe this is what Charlie meant: Jen wanted Judy to move out.

Before she could stop herself she was running outside, a sob tearing through her chest and leaving her lungs with a strangled cry before she could even make it to the guest house. Instead, she found herself slumped on the nearby lounger, her knees curled up to her chest and her hands cradling her head. It wasn’t even intentional, the way her hands found her face with a fist straight to her cheek. It hurt more than usual, but she figured she deserved it – this time, simply for being so stupid, for not seeing it, for taking up space where she wasn’t wanted, yet again – and so she continued until she was sure she’d left a bruise. 

She thought she’d closed the door, she really did, but suddenly someone was by her side (and they’d been here before, doomed to repeat this cycle of hurt and comfort like they were born to do it) and she was wrapped in Jen’s arms before she could try to push them away.

“Shhh, shhhh, Judy, it’s okay. I’m here, baby, I’m here.”

The sobs got louder after that, and for a second, in her daze, Judy thought the sky might cave in.

“It’s not okay,” she sobbed, “it’s not okay.”

“Breathe, Jude, okay? Breathe with me,” Jen was saying, and Judy realised Jen was holding her hand up to her chest. Judy could feel her heartbeat beneath the material of her shirt; it was racing, but the feeling of it seemed to relax her – a tactile reminder that this was real, that she really was in Jen’s arms, and Jen was holding her like she really believed Judy deserved to be held.

“I’m so sorry, Judy,” Jen said after a few beats of silence, “I’m so sorry.”

“No, Jen. I fucked everything up.”

“No you didn’t,” Jen whispered into her hair, tucking her firmly under her chin.

“I did, I did, I’m so stupid, I—I should’ve hidden the letters better and I should have told you sooner. And I should have,” she choked between sobs, “I should have fucking died when you told me to.” 

It’s not like she _planned_ it, but as soon as the words had left her lips it was like some switch had been flipped, like the thing they had been tiptoeing around was suddenly right before them, flashing loud and clear in neon lights. 

Jen was quiet, and Judy could feel her shaking beneath her. In a rare moment of bravery, she dared herself to look up and she found Jen staring at her, tears silently streaming down her cheeks, her lip quivering. There was something in her eyes: a deep self-hatred that Judy recognised all too well, and a concern so full of love, of desperation, that Judy felt her own heart twitch in her chest.

“Jen…” she started, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

But Jen was shaking her head, the tears falling faster now, and she was choking back her own sobs.

“No, Jude, I’m such a fucking asshole,” she cried, bringing her hands to wipe at her tears. 

“Stop saying that.”

“But fuck, Judy. I told you to die! And then you...you fucking _tried,”_ she almost whispered the last word, and Judy flinched, as though hearing it echoing around them, out in the open, suddenly made it real; Judy did try to kill herself, and she could never take that back.

“But I told you, you saved me,” she said, attempting a watery smile before reaching up to stroke Jen’s face, her fingers sticky with her tears.

“No, I didn’t,” she shook her head, “I didn’t, Judy. God, I made it worse. And now I’ve spent the last fucking month treating you like you’re not even here.”

Her first instinct was to say _it’s okay,_ but she knew, deep in the part of her that wanted to change, the part that wanted to love Jen and be loved back, that it wasn’t okay. So she didn’t lie. She simply pulled Jen closer, her head falling perfectly onto her shoulder, and held her. She pressed all of her love into the feeling of skin on skin, and breathed in the smell of her. She let that be enough.

“What happened with Charlie, Jen?” She asked after a while.

“What?”

“He said...he asked if you’d spoken to me. And everything has been weird since you talked to him. What did he say?” She didn’t look up this time, but let herself stare at some spot in the pool, watching the ripples of the water ebb and flow in the light breeze. Jen shifted beside her, but brought her hand to hold Judy’s own, interlocking their fingers together and giving her a light squeeze.

And Jen told her; she told her how she’d explained it was Steve who hit his father, that Judy took the blame because that’s who she was as a person – someone willing to take the heat and the hatred for the people she loved – and how she’d killed Steve because he wanted to hurt Judy, because he wanted to hurt their family and Jen couldn’t let that happen. 

“But—but I was the one driving, Jen,” she said when she finished.

“He doesn’t need to know that, Jude. And it doesn’t matter.”

“Yes it does, I—”

“No,” Jen said again, more firmly this time, and she tucked her fingers under Judy’s chin and turned her head so she could look her right in the eye. “No, Judy, it doesn’t. It was Steve, okay? You’re a good person. Fuck, you’re the best person I know.”

Through tears, Judy let herself smile. But then her eyebrows were furrowing together, because this didn’t make any sense.

“And he believed you? He was okay with it?”

“Mostly, yeah. He’s more pissed that I lied to him. He’s taking it out on you because he’s a fucking dick,” Jen scoffed, “But...he was actually pretty understanding about it. Maybe I didn’t totally fuck up on the whole raising him thing after all.” 

“So what did he mean? When he said you needed to speak to me?” She asked, and there was something in Jen’s face Judy couldn’t quite place – something like a secret held tight enough it could be mistaken for honesty, something like she wasn’t quite telling the whole story.

“I don’t know, Jude. Fuck knows what goes on in that kid’s head. Don’t worry about it,” she said, but she turned her eyes away. “I’m just, I’m just fucking sorry I’ve been so shitty. God, it sounds like such a fucking cliche, but it was me, Judy, not you, okay?”

“Okay,” Judy said, because her body was aching, and because all of a sudden there was a real chance things could _actually_ be okay. Because she didn’t have to leave the only place that ever really felt like home. 

And then she was saying, “You’re not breaking up with me though, right?” Because maybe it wasn’t only Jen who needed a way out this evening. 

“Oh, fuck off. Don’t let Henry hear you say that, he’ll never fucking forgive me.”

She let Jen lead her back into the house and pour her another glass of wine. She let the night feel normal – or as close to normal as they could ever get – and it felt good, it felt free, it felt like how it _should_ feel.

But something still lingered in the air around them – something thick and murky and unavoidable, something that felt like two people who had never really let themselves be loved. 

(Judy let herself breathe through it anyway, because after all, this was not a battle that could be won overnight.)


	4. a touch of lavender

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jen and Judy get to know each other just a _little_ better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everydaybicon, knebworth, and of course queenC_13 for giving me the encouragement I needed to write this chapter. I love you all.
> 
> Please note the change of rating from M to E. There is quite a lot of smut in this chapter so please be warned.
> 
> I am coming to the end of this story now and only have one chapter left. I hope you enjoy :)

It had been this way since they first met: a tangle of limbs and skin pressed on skin, a lingering stare held like a breath before a kiss, and in the last second, a pause, a rush of cold air and a smile sealed with the unspoken agreement that this is where things stopped. In these moments it seemed like they were on the precipice of something – something heavy and something inevitable, something like the ending of your favourite book; you always know what’s coming next, you’ve held the words hot and familiar on your tongue, but you still can’t bring yourself to turn the last page lest it changed when you weren’t looking. It reminded Judy of a perfectly choreographed dance, something out of one of Jen’s classes, and she envisioned it sometimes, what Jen looked like when she was younger, before grief hung heavy on her shoulders and carved out the space beneath her chest.

But something felt different, Judy thought, about the way Jen was looking at her now. The touches lasted longer. She felt it when she made dinner, when Jen hovered behind her with a smile she thought might mean forgiveness, though she couldn’t be sure, and the way her hand came to rest on her hip.

“Whatcha making?” Jen asked, her tone light, her voice far too close to Judy’s ear. She had to suppress the shiver she could almost feel building in her spine; she had to stop the way the words _she’s in love with you, isn’t she?_ played on a loop in her head, tantalising and cruel.

“Oh, just veggie bolognese.”

“Mm, I bet Charlie’s thrilled about that,” Jen chuckled, resting her chin on Judy’s shoulder. If she noticed the way Judy’s whole body tensed at the contact, she didn’t let on.

“I can make something else! I think there’s meat in the fridge, let me just—” 

“Hey,” she pulled at her arm before Judy could leave her grasp, “I’m joking, Jude.” 

“Are you sure? Because I can whip something else up real quick, I—”

“You know the boys love your cooking. I mean for fuck’s sake I’ve never seen Henry sit so still at the dinner table,” Jen said, “Believe me, that isn’t fucking easy.”

Judy let herself laugh, a short exhale of breath that clearly wasn’t very convincing because suddenly Jen’s eyebrows furrowed and her face was falling.

“Are you okay? You’re acting weird. Like, _weirder.”_

There was a softness to Jen's eyes today, something warm and pleading in the way she was looking at Judy, her hand resting on the kitchen counter.

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine,” Judy said through a forced smile. Because it wasn’t a _lie_ , exactly; she _was_ okay – she was still standing in the kitchen of a family she had fallen in love with, and Jen was staring at her without pity, without distrust, without a catch. But maybe that was the issue, after all.

“Mhm, okay,” Jen said, sarcasm dripping from her words.

She let it slide, instead deciding to help with the cooking (which translated mostly to a lot of hovering and pouring the wine), and Judy felt her shoulders relax. She felt herself eventually leaning into the domesticity of it; she let herself wonder if Jen’s hand on the small of her back would always give her goosebumps.

  
  
  


*****

Drunken nights watching _Facts of Life_ on the outdoor couch soon morphed into sober nights in Jen’s bed, sitting and talking about nothing, eating Entenmann's cookies and pretending that this was what you did when you and your best friend were murderers and the shared grief between you was heavy enough to break glass. 

Charlie watched them sometimes, as they walked upstairs to bed – Judy could see him raising his eyebrows and averting his eyes back to his phone when he saw her looking – and it felt a little like absolution, and everything like a second chance.

“Don’t stay up too late, Char. That phone will rot your fucking brain,” Jen called out to him as she grabbed Judy’s hand. 

“Yeah, whatever. Goodnight, Mom. Night, Judy.” 

“Goodnight, Charlie!”

And if he mouthed, _talk to her,_ when Jen turned her back, well, he could’ve meant anything. How was Judy to know?

(And if she ended up sleeping in Jen’s bed from then on, it was only because they both still struggled to sleep, and sometimes guilt was easier to swallow when it was shared between the sheets.)

But it dawned on her, when Jen’s face was pressed into her shoulder during the night, that she never really let herself believe Charlie could be right. And as she rolled over the next morning, watching as the lines on Jen’s face were slowly illuminated by the sun that now seemed to pour into the room drop by drop, soaking each and every inch of the white sheets in gold, she let herself bask in a feeling akin to hope. 

“Morning sleepyhead,” she whispered into her pillow when Jen’s eyes slowly opened.

“Ugh, gross,” she muttered before turning to face away from Judy, but there was no malice this time, no weight in the removal of her gaze, and Judy felt light for the first time in months. 

“I think you drooled on my back,” Judy giggled, poking Jen in the side gently to try and elicit a reaction.

“Ew! No I did not.”

“I think you did.”

“Fuck off. Sleep in your own bed,” she mumbled, but her foot found Judy’s leg under the sheets and it stayed there, rubbing gentle patterns that seemed to say, _I want you here._

“But then I wouldn’t be able to do this,” Judy said, wrapping her arms around Jen’s waist and pulling her in. 

“Shut the fuck up, it’s too early.”

“It’s 8am.”

“Exactly.”

“Don’t pretend like you don’t enjoy being the little spoon, Jen,” she laughed, pushing her face further into the blonde curls that smelled so distinctly of the expensive lavender and tea tree shampoo that she found in the shower. (Judy had used it yesterday morning, in a moment of reflexive intimacy that seemed fitting for two people who shared a bed, for two people who shared a crushing secret like burying a body).

Jen simply groaned in response but she didn’t move, she only pressed herself back into Judy’s body and before they knew it, they were both drifting back into a light sleep. Judy dreamt of sand dunes and purple flowers and the type of sun that never set.

When she woke up a second time to an empty bed and an empty house, she couldn’t help the way her stomach dropped.

  
  


*****

“I took the kids to Lorna’s,” Jen explained when she got home a half-hour later. She was fumbling with her car keys and avoiding Judy’s eyes, and Judy felt a prickling sensation crawling up her arms.

“Oh. Why?” 

“Because she wouldn’t stop fucking hounding me about it,” Jen rolled her eyes, “and maybe Mommy needs a fucking break.”

She seemed flushed, Judy thought, and for some reason her own cheeks seemed to redden, like there was something else going on here and her body sensed what her mind didn’t seem privy to.

“I, uh, have work shit to do,” Jen suddenly stuttered, giving Judy a tense smile and rushing upstairs. Judy was left gaping at the space Jen had just occupied, her heartbeat uncomfortably loud in her ears, her hands reaching for something that was no longer there.

She spent the majority of the day painting in the guest house turned art studio, working on a portrait of the boys that she hadn’t told Jen about because she wanted it to be a surprise. There were no hollow hearts this time, just bright colours and love painted on canvas – a thank you for the pardon she had been handed on a silver platter, an insufficient gift to compare with the offering of unconditional love and a life spent fulfilled. 

It was later than she thought when she finally put down her paintbrush, and she quickly washed her hands and changed into something distinctly _less_ paint-splattered, before making her way back into the main house to think about dinner.

“Jen! How do you feel about pizza?” She called into the empty house. When she didn’t receive an answer, she approached the stairs and shouted again. 

It wasn’t until she approached Jen’s bedroom door that she heard it. 

At first, she thought they could be sobs. The muffled little whimpers seemed to come and go in waves – a small intake of breath had Judy holding hers in tandem – but as she leaned in closer, ready to rush to Jen’s side in a heartbeat, there was something different, something wrong. A moan, unmistakable and electric. The shock of it seemed to pull Judy backwards, her whole body stumbling back into the wall behind her. Jen must have heard her, because for a moment the moans stopped. A painful silence suddenly consumed the air around her, heavy and uncompromising. Judy was going to leave, she really was, her heart was racing and her pulse felt uncomfortable in her throat, but before she could make her exit the moans started again, more distinct this time. And before she could convince herself she imagined it, she heard her name, quiet at first and then louder, uttered like a prayer.

“Judy, oh God—”

It was desperate, almost pained, and suddenly Judy felt like her skin was on fire, every nerve in her body alight with the knowledge that Jen wanted her to hear this; she was welcoming her to share this moment, something private and something sacred. Breathing steadily, she allowed her head to lean back against the wall, her chest heaving and her palms sweaty.

“Please, please—” the moans continued, Jen’s voice low and salacious; it curled its way into Judy’s chest and pressed hard, a pressure that only dropped lower the longer she stood here, waiting. With each sigh, each jagged intake of breath, Judy felt the heat building between her legs. 

She didn’t allow herself to surrender at first, not here, not in case she had misread this situation (she couldn’t _take_ like this; she didn’t deserve to touch herself like this) and maybe this was just some kind of dream, some hallucination her brain conjured like a punishment. But something seemed to break inside of her when Jen cried out again, another plea, and her moans were getting higher now – Judy could tell she was nearing the edge – and she couldn’t deny it anymore, not when she could envision the way Jen’s face was flushing, the way her hands were working beneath the waistband of her underwear.

“Oh fuck,” Judy breathed, loud enough for Jen to hear, and when Jen let out a groan in response, her hands seemed to find the lace of her own underwear as if of their own accord.

She was wet – perhaps wetter than she ought to be without any real touch – and she couldn’t help the way she moaned, feeling herself worked up and ready for Jen. With her eyes shut tight, she imagined it, Jen’s fingers working slowly in and out of her, sending little trails of fire in their wake as she stroked and explored. She was breathing heavily now, little pants and breathy exhales that filled the air around her in a cloud of ecstasy and overdue desire. (It was embarrassing, really, the heat she could feel radiating from her body.)

“Yes baby,” the words on the other side of the wall coaxed, and Judy felt her mouth drop open; she felt her legs spread wider. She’d never felt like this before, so exposed and so voyeuristic, but as she entered herself with two fingers, she felt something inside of her come alive; and when she allowed herself to whisper Jen’s name, it tasted sweet on her tongue, like it should always fall from her lips like this, her hair thrown back and her fingers sending little jerks of electricity down her spine. 

“Oh god, Jen, I’m—” she cut herself off before she could say it, the sounds of her own wetness catching her off guard. For a moment, she wondered if it was loud enough for Jen to hear through the half open door, and she blushed, but her fingers only worked harder, her moans louder with each thrust of her hips.

“I’m so close, I’m gonna—” Jen panted, and then she was keening: a scream that Judy could envision ripping through her body with the violence of a storm, and she wished she could see her right now – her blonde hair tumbling over the pillows and her stomach taut and covered in a sheen of sweat. But the sound of Jen’s climax was enough to have Judy teetering on the edge, too, and all of a sudden the heat seemed to build at an impossible pace, the heel of her hand rubbing torturously over her clit, and it didn’t take long to join Jen, her own orgasm hitting her hard and fast. 

She could hear Jen’s shaky breaths on the other side of the wall as she came down from her high, and she allowed herself to remove her fingers, reaching up to suck them, one by one. She closed her eyes and imagined Jen watching her, the way her lidded eyes would be dark with want, the way she might lean in, reaching for her hand and replacing it with her own.

Before she could think about her next move, she felt a rush of cold air as the door slammed beside her. At once, Judy felt her heart plummet to her feet.   
  


*****

It was easy not to talk about it.

Judy ordered their favourite pizza (half vegetable and half pepperoni) and left Jen’s half on the kitchen counter. When she returned from the guest house at midnight to pour herself a glass of wine, she found the empty box stuffed in the recycling bin, and despite the fact her white wine didn’t taste the same without Jen’s laugh in her ears, she let the sight comfort her – an olive branch, a sign that perhaps she hadn’t fucked everything up this time. 

Breakfast the next morning was business as usual; Jen made jokes at Lorna’s expense and Judy laughed along, and maybe she wasn’t as affectionate, maybe Jen’s hands no longer trailed haphazard patterns along Judy’s thigh, but she was smiling at her, the crease between her eyebrows an unspoken apology, and Judy basked in it, today. She let herself accept this moment for what it was – two friends sharing a meal before they headed to work, no secrets and no lies held like lockets close to their chest.

It almost felt like it had been a dream after all.

Jen invited her back into her bed a few days later, when the boys were fast asleep and the clock read 2am. Judy was yawning, her whole body stretching out on the couch before them, and Jen simply turned her head, a sleepy smile on her lips. “Come on,” she said, offering Judy her hand. She took it, and let Jen lead her up the stairs. She was out before her head hit the pillow, and she woke the next day wrapped in Jen’s arms: a blanket of warmth she never seemed to tire of, the heat of her body a smoke signal – a memory of a different type of heat, scorching and wet and entirely inappropriate. Judy swallowed it down with her glass of water, forcing the feeling to quell in the light of day, as though a reminder it was just a footnote in their lives, something to savour but never bring up again. She was willing to accept it, to live with it, if it meant she could keep this bed warm with her own body heat, to keep breathing in the smell of lavender on her pillow.

But it started to happen again, little moments lost in the smokescreen of their lives: a hand resting on her shoulder during film night, inching its way closer to her chest but never fully meeting its destination; nights spent lying next to each other in the dark, lips hovering over the dip of a collarbone, and it was never enough to stop and say, _I want you,_ _I love you, do you love me like Charlie said you do?_ because in a flash it was over, and the space between their bodies seemed to span the breadth of the ocean. 

It was entirely accidental, when Judy walked into their bedroom (because it was, it was _theirs_ now) one Saturday evening when the sun was setting and the boys were downstairs. 

“Hey, Jen, have you seen my ring? You know the one with the little turquoise—” Her voice caught in her throat when she looked up – Jen was standing before the mirror, towel on the floor, completely and utterly naked. When she met Judy’s eyes in the mirror, her whole face seemed to freeze, eyes blown wide, before she reached for the towel and wrapped it around herself in one swift motion.

“Judy, what the fuck?!”

“I’m sorry! I thought you were out of the shower because I heard the water turn off and—”

“Oh my fucking God, this did not just fucking happen to me right now,” she was whispering to herself, or Judy, she couldn’t really tell, but her fingers were pressing hard into her temple and her jaw was clenched and her cheeks flushed red.

“It’s okay, Jen. We live together, it happens,” Judy waved her hand dismissively in front of her, but her heart was racing, her body vibrating despite it all, because, yeah, they’d shared a bed for weeks now but they had always avoided this particular inconvenience. She was sure Jen took _extra_ precautionary measures to avoid this exact scenario, and so her own skin suddenly felt hot and uncomfortable.

“No it fucking doesn’t, Judy.” 

She was glaring at her now, her eyes angry and hurt, and Judy thought the way her lips were slightly downturned looked a lot like shame, and she felt herself drawn towards her before she could really think about it. She tried to get closer, but suddenly Jen was throwing out her hands, stopping her in her tracks.

“Don’t. Please, just let me get dressed.”

“Okay. I’m sorry,” she said on instinct, her eyes averting to the floor. She rushed out of the room and back downstairs before she could allow herself to feel anything more, and when Charlie looked up at her with his eyebrows raised in question she simply shot him a comforting smile. (He had been so good recently, like he was really growing up, and he looked so much like Jen right now, as he watched her busy herself in the kitchen, and the thought made her heart ache just slightly more.)

When Jen finally made it downstairs she was dressed in her favourite plaid pyjama pants and an oversized t-shirt; it was Judy’s favourite, seeing her like this, her hair thrown into a messy bun and her face clean of makeup. It made Judy feel a different kind of intimacy, the kind that lended itself to lazy days in front of the television and smiles shared without pretence. 

It was a while later, long after the boys had gone to bed, when she finally broached the subject.

“I’m sorry for freaking out before. It’s just, you know,” Jen said, pointing to her chest with a shrug and focusing her eyes on the TV in front of them. Her eyes rolled with an air of self-deprecation that sent a jolt through Judy’s body.

“Jen, you don’t have to hide from me,” Judy said, her hand wrapping itself around her glass tighter than before, “I’m not like him.” 

She, too, looked towards the TV as she uttered the words, but she felt Jen’s gaze heavy on her cheek as she turned to look at her. The beat before either woman spoke again seemed to last a lifetime, so Judy followed up with, “And I told you, you’re heaven on a stick.”

Jen snorted, and then a laugh was tumbling from her lips, loud and uncensored. Judy joined her, her giggles catching in her throat and causing her to cough, and soon they were both doubled over, wine glasses abandoned and unabashed joy filling the room around them.

“You know, we could always make it even,” Judy said suddenly, her eyebrow raised and a smirk on her lips.

“What?”

“A little ‘show me yours and I’ll show you mine,’” she waggled her eyebrows suggestively. 

“You cannot be serious,” Jen snorted in disbelief, and the scandalised look on her face only worked to push Judy further. (Their banter held them afloat at times like this, and maybe it was for her own benefit as much as it was for Jen’s, because if she looked further into this, if she examined the way Jen’s thigh was pressed to hers, she might falter, and it seemed like this thing between them, this unspoken edge they were teetering on was becoming more unsteady by the day.)

“I’m serious,” she said, aiming to make her voice even. Jen simply turned her head sideways and rolled her eyes.

“Come _on_ ,” she pleaded, fluttering her eyelashes, “please?”

And really, it didn’t take her as long as she expected to agree, but somehow she found herself wrapped in her blue floral robe and standing before a seated Jen at the foot of their bed. It was magic, the way Jen was already looking at her through hooded eyes, and suddenly the image was back in Judy’s head: the sound of breathy moans through a half open door, the vision of a dishevelled Jen aching and wet for her, coming undone at the sound of her voice on the other side of the wall. Judy dropped the robe with the confidence of someone who had done this a thousand times – stood bare in front of her best friend of a year and a half, unfiltered and untamed. Judy liked to be naked, she felt comfortable enough in her own body to enjoy the feeling of cold air against her skin, but this was different, watching as Jen’s eyes travelled the length of her body, soaking in every inch like it was made to be worshipped, and as soon as she looked up to meet her eyes, Judy knew this was a moment she’d never come back from. 

She leaned into it anyway, stepping closer as Jen made no move to turn away. 

“God, Jude, you’re beautiful,” she breathed, staring at some unknown spot between her hip bone and the curve of her ribs.

“Thank you,” she said dumbly, and she almost curtsied, holding out a fake skirt and bowing (and maybe it was worth it to see Jen roll her eyes and laugh). And maybe it felt more normal than she could have ever imagined when she closed the remaining gap between their bodies, coming to stand almost between Jen’s legs at the end of the bed. 

“Of course you have fucking perfect tits,” Jen said as she looked up, and if Judy didn’t know better, she would’ve said there was a blush on her cheeks, soft and definite.

“You can touch me if you like,” Judy whispered, and she could see Jen visibly swallow; the lines of her neck and chest seemed so defined under the lights of the bedroom, and she couldn’t help the way her fingers came to trace the length of Jen’s collarbone. It seemed to give Jen confidence because suddenly her hands were on Judy’s hips, her fingers gently drawing patterns over the curve of her waist, tentatively but with purpose, as though tracing the lines of her body to memory. 

“Judy…” she started, though her voice disappeared into her throat, and then her lips were hovering over the space above Judy’s belly button, the heat of her breath causing goosebumps to erupt across the expanse of her skin. “Fuck. I think—I think I want...” She trailed off, the words lost to the ether of Judy’s body.

“Oh God, Jen. Please. Please, it’s okay,” she whispered as she dragged her hands through the curls in Jen’s hair, her fingers digging softly into her scalp. She couldn’t breathe for a moment or two, and then she felt it. The unmistakable sensation of a kiss pressed gently into her skin. Her whole body shivered, her nipples instantly hardening under the pressure of Jen’s lips against her stomach. 

It was soft at first, almost hesitant, Jen’s lips making gentle explorations over her stomach and her waist, and Judy thought she could melt into this feeling, all molten heat and tongue pressed against skin. But then her hands were on her hips, pulling her further into Jen’s body, and the mood seemed to shift all at once; Jen’s hands were rough against her body, dragging and pushing, and Judy fell into her lap like she belonged there, her own body pressed firmly against Jen’s pyjama pants with a friction that made her gasp. 

“Fuck, Jen,” she moaned into Jen’s neck, grinding her hips slightly into her lap, unable to stop herself, unable to keep from pressing harder, further, needing _more._

“Oh fuck, I can feel you,” Jen said, and suddenly she was leaning back, watching as Judy’s eyes fluttered shut. She knew what she meant. She knew the heat between her legs was enough to be felt through the thin material of her pants, and the thought that Jen could feel how wet she was for her, grinding against her leg, made Judy moan louder this time, and she couldn’t help the way she threw her head back, exposing her throat. Jen’s mouth was everywhere, dragging open-mouthed kisses along her pulse point and the length of her jaw, biting hard against her shoulder, and Judy couldn’t take it anymore.

“Touch me,” she begged, “please, I need you.”

She hesitated for a moment, but sure enough, Jen reached between their bodies, and when she felt her, they both gasped with the finality of it; the building to this moment had felt like a lifetime, like the strokes Jen was now making were a path forged through nightmares and a few dozen lies, and it only served to push them harder, Jen entering her and instantly finding a rhythm. Judy rode her hand in earnest, her hips making well-practised motions against the palm of her hand, and it was hotter than Judy had imagined it, the way Jen’s mouth met hers in a lazy kiss, more tongue than teeth. 

“Come for me,” Jen whispered, over and over – a command and a plea, an offering to prove this was real, fully-fledged and without a doubt, and Judy felt the muscles begin to twitch in her thighs. 

The orgasm hit slower than the one she gave herself; it spread through her stomach before meeting her toes, and her whole body began to shake as she rode her high atop Jen’s lap, her chest heaving and falling into her shoulder. She stopped once her breath had returned to her body, her face slumped into the space between Jen’s shoulder and her neck, and she let herself breathe in the smell of sex and sweat and lavender, inhaling the hint of the ocean that always lingered on Jen’s skin, and she pressed her own kisses to the freckles beneath her lips. 

“Holy shit,” she giggled, her voice muffled and tainted with spent desire.

“Yeah…” Jen breathed, but then she was leaning back, her face a picture of concern and something slightly adjacent. Judy couldn’t pinpoint what it meant, but she knew she needed to step back, so before she could really bask in the glow of her post-orgasm daze, she forced herself to her feet, wrapping her robe around her body and sitting beside Jen on the bed.

“Are you okay?” She asked, reaching for Jen’s hand. She didn’t comment on the way she could see herself there, wet and glistening and entirely too distinctive under the obnoxious lights above them.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I just gotta,” she pointed to her hand and then rushed to the bathroom. 

Judy leaned back into the sheets and forced her breathing to calm. Jen was here, and she was safe; the evidence of their love lay obvious in the pleasant ache between her legs. Still, she couldn’t shake the inkling feeling in her bones that something huge was about to happen – something like one way or another, this was where the earth spun off its axis. 

Judy knew she’d tumble over the edge if it meant she got to relive this moment, satiated and warm, tangled in Jen’s sheets and the sound of the shower head fading into the background.

She’d never hoped for anything as strongly as she hoped that Jen wanted that, too.


	5. pursuit of happiness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jen and Judy finally seek the resolution they have been craving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I’m very sorry that this took so long to update, life really snuck up on me and I wasn’t motivated to write for a few weeks. But here we have it, the last chapter! Thank you for all the incredible comments on this fic, they have truly meant the absolute world. I didn’t expect to receive such in-depth comments and each and every one of them has encouraged me to continue writing for this chaotic little fandom. I love you all!
> 
> As always, thank you to my angels queenC_13, knebworth and everydaybicon for providing me with top notch insight and encouragement. You make me better! ❤️

Judy wasn’t really surprised when it kept happening. 

After the first time, Jen hadn’t mentioned it; no more than a slight nod of the head when Judy asked again if she was okay and roughly turning away from her arms as they fell asleep that night. In the light of day, Jen threw her a smile that almost met her eyes. They ate breakfast with Charlie and Henry and neither brought attention to the small red mark at the nape of Jen’s neck: the only solid reminder of their passion, something Judy felt her eyes naturally gravitate towards over the course of the day. Something she could hold on to and think, _she felt it too._

The second time, they were drunk. She saw it coming, this time, like a trainwreck she couldn’t look away from. Jen had been grinding against her hips on the dancefloor for the better part of an hour, her arms snaking around her waist and moving Judy’s body to the beat, and she couldn’t help the way she leaned into it. The club smelt of cheap beer and sweat, but the sensation of Jen’s hot breath tickling her neck sent shivers down Judy’s spine, and she was turning in her arms before her sober mind could catch up with her drunken body. As if Jen could sense it, she was stepping back before their lips could touch. It hurt, the little pang of disappointment that crept up on Judy all of a sudden; but then, as if out of nowhere, a vaguely good-looking man was approaching and leading Jen to dance, and Judy could only watch with a burning jealousy as Jen agreed. (She was past the point of too far gone, Judy thought, and she couldn’t remember how many shots they’d had but she knew it was more than enough.)

She watched with a sick kind of curiosity as Jen drunkenly danced against this nameless man, as though her body was physically unable to turn away. For a moment, Judy wondered if Jen had forgotten she was there at all, but then her eyes were on hers, Jen watching Judy dance alone, and something about this felt even more intimate; Jen’s eyes followed her every move, daring and dark, and when she turned her face to kiss the man in front of her, her eyes were unwavering. She knew, in this moment, that it was Judy she was kissing. Her skin felt hot, like her whole body had been set aflame; as Jen watched her, Judy felt herself swaying her hips. She felt debauched, putting on a show like this for someone whose mouth was against another’s lips, but the burning between her thighs left no room for misinterpretation. Judy wanted Jen, and this time, she knew Jen wanted her back.

It was a miracle they made it home without ripping each other’s clothes off. Jen’s hand slowly found its way up Judy’s skirt, rubbing teasing little circles on the top of her thigh, and Judy thought she might die then and there, in the backseat of an Uber with a head full of tequila and a throbbing between her legs. Jen slammed her against the wall when she finally closed the door, and her mouth found Judy’s almost instantly. It was faster this time, and hands grabbed at jackets and fisted in hair with the uninhibited enthusiasm of two drunken women who craved one another. Jen tasted of whiskey and fire; the cigarette she had smoked outside of the club while they waited for the cab was bitter on her tongue, and she breathed in the rush of nicotine with a slight hammer in her heart. This could be her demise, she knew, but she couldn’t find it in herself to stop. Not when Jen was tugging at her jacket and pushing her to the couch. 

It took a while through the fog of too much alcohol and heads dizzy with desire, but Jen eventually managed to undo the buttons of Judy’s skirt, tugging it from her hips and throwing it somewhere behind the couch. Judy watched her face closely, pinpointing each flicker of emotion as they crossed over her eyes. She was searching for something in the dilation of her pupils, in the way Jen’s mouth hung open as Judy removed her shirt and bra, and she thought she saw it when Jen leaned down to press a kiss to Judy’s chest: a hint of vulnerability beneath the outward roughness of her hands. In the darkness, she felt the unmistakable heat of tears falling against her stomach, but before she could stop, push Jen away and finally speak the words she had longed to utter for weeks, Jen was travelling lower.

“You don’t—you don’t have to do that,” Judy choked out between moans as Jen’s nails dragged red marks down her thighs. She knew where she was headed, and she couldn’t stop the wetness that seeped through her underwear at the mere thought of Jen’s tongue pressed against her heat.

“I want to,” Jen said as she looked up, her stare catching Judy’s with the sureness of someone who really knew what she wanted. Judy had to bite down the thought that this was the alcohol talking – a glitch in the matrix of the Jen Harding she knew like the back of her hand. Her makeup was smudged, and Judy could just about make out the tracks of half-dried tears that shone in the moonlight. Tentatively, she reached out and rubbed her thumb over the remnants of her vulnerability. 

“Okay,” Judy nodded, and before she knew it Jen was dipping her head. The gesture felt almost reverent; and if sex was an act of worship, Judy thought this was the closest she had ever felt to a certified religion. For a moment, there were no expectations, just feeling – just an act of one’s need pressed against another’s desire. Jen’s mouth sent shockwaves of electricity through Judy’s body, her tongue switching between long, slow strokes and faster motions that had Judy’s thighs shaking against Jen’s face. When she came, it was with a strangled cry and a few tears of her own.

After that, sleeping together became just another thing they didn’t talk about – like sharing a bed, like co-parenting Jen’s kids and building a life together that felt everything like happiness forged from chaos. The first time she reciprocated, Judy found herself in awe of the way Jen let herself go: all open mouthed moans and soft breathy exhales. It amazed her, the moments of quietness she witnessed in Jen at times like this. As if, for a moment, the ferocity that coursed its way through Jen’s veins seemed to abate, and instead a tenderness shone through, something light and carefree. She seemed to come alive in the first few moments after the orgasm had worn off, when a lazy smile lit up her eyes and she threw an arm over her face. Sometimes it lasted, and sometimes it didn’t.   
  
  


*****

Today, Judy knew as soon as she woke up to an empty bed that things would be different.

It was early; the soft orange light filtered in through the crack in the curtains and illuminated the empty spot beside her. A quick glance at the clock told her it was barely 6am.

“Jen?” She called out, her voice still croaky with sleep. For a moment, the house stood eerily still and the distinct lack of sound seemed to reverberate through the walls, sending goosebumps down Judy’s arms.

“Jen?” She called again, to no avail. The boys were still asleep (she could hear Henry’s soft snore as she walked past his room), so she quietly made her way downstairs, wrapping her robe tighter around her waist. 

She found Jen on her laptop in the outdoor living room, her glasses resting on the bridge of her nose and her hair tied in a lazy bun on the top of her head. For a moment, Judy let herself watch as she typed, appreciating the way her oversized t-shirt was hanging just slightly off her shoulder. This was where she wanted to remain: suspended in the hour just after dawn, when the air was cool and the day spread out before them, orange and gold and the shape of Jen’s body wrapped in a throw across the couch. It felt safe here, the world still so full of possibility. As if Jen could sense that she was being observed, she shifted her position, her legs coming to curl beneath her.

“It’ll hurt your back to sit like that,” Judy spoke into the morning air.

Clearly shocked at the sound of her voice, Jen flinched slightly before she recovered and managed a small smile. There was something there today, though, behind the surface; there was that fire again, burning with a subtle intensity that could almost be dismissed as simple morning restlessness. Judy knew better.

“I’m fine,” she said through a tight-lipped smile. Gently, Judy sat down next to her, turning her body to face her.

“You’re up early,” she said like it wasn’t obvious.

“Yip.”

“You busy?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Jen…” her voice was softer now, and something like pleading. Instantly, Jen flinched away. It was on instinct, the way she bit down the uncomfortable sensation that bubbled in her throat each time it happened. Jen was allowed to need space – that’s what she had promised, wasn’t it? To let her figure this out on her own terms. But the longer this thing hung in the air around them, buzzing and electric and far too deafening, Judy felt the self-control she had built for decades slowly begin to unravel.

She had never really allowed herself to feel _angry._ After all, she was never any good at blaming other people. But it existed within her, somewhere deep in the parts of herself that never met daylight, curling itself so tightly inside her gut that if she shut her eyes tight enough, if she dug her nails hard enough into her palm, it would go away.

The last time she snapped, Jen had held her in her arms as she hit herself, over and over again. 

She wasn’t sure what would happen this time. But as she reached out once more, again feeling the cold air hit her palm instead of the warmth of Jen’s skin, she knew it was coming, one way or another.

  
  
*****

  
It was much later, after the dishes were cleared away and Charlie had run off to play his video games, that the edges began to crack.

“You know, Henry is really becoming such an artist. His painting today was _so_ good, I mean, talk about talent, right? His use of colour, for his age, like, _wow_ ,” Judy was rambling, because in the last few weeks, in between working on her own family portrait and her shifts at work, she had been teaching Henry to paint. When Jen was working and Charlie was with his friends, Judy and Henry had found solace in a peaceful afternoon of painting. It felt like everything Judy had dreamed of; everything she couldn’t believe she had. 

“Uh-huh,” Jen sipped on her wine, staring straight ahead, her eyes unblinking.

“I just think he could really thrive, you know? I could get him some more expensive watercolours, they’re easier to work with at first—”

“Yeah, yeah, sounds good.”

“If you’re okay with it, obviously.” 

“Yeah, whatever, watercolours, good,” Jen was muttering, half paying attention, half staring at some unknown spot in front of her. 

“Hey, are you okay?” Judy reached out, her face falling when Jen turned away.

“Yeah. Jesus, Judy, I’m fine,” she snapped. Jen’s face fell for a moment, and Judy thought she could see remorse there: an unspoken apology for today and so much more. Just as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone. 

“Well, you don’t seem fine.” 

Her voice was scratchy, and so much darker than she had intended it.

“You’ve just been very, _hovery,”_ Jen emphasised the last word with a hand gesturing between them. 

“Oh.”

“And I just, I just can’t do this right now, okay?” 

The clock seemed to get louder all of a sudden; Judy could hear each second passing like the sound of her own heartbeat in her ears. Jen’s eyes were pleading, watching every move Judy made with a deep intake of breath. Here they were, standing on the edge of the precipice. Falling all the way off.

“Do you want me here?” She heard the words tumbling from her mouth before her mind could really catch up. It always happened this way: a slight slip of her tongue and her body wanted to cave in on itself. But standing in their shared kitchen, the evidence of their domesticity laid out before them, just this once Judy couldn’t bring herself to take it back. Not now. 

“What?” 

“Do you want this?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jen scoffed. This time her eyes didn’t meet Judy’s. Instead, they roamed around the room like she could find answers in the unwashed dishes and the half empty bottle of wine on the kitchen island. Tears were building in Judy’s eyes now, and she couldn’t stop them; she couldn’t stop this tsunami wave coursing through her body, begging to be released. It hurt, the way it felt like it might break her bones.

“Because I’m getting all these mixed signals and I—I need to know, Jen. Do you want me here?”

There was so much more she wanted to say. 

“What? Judy, of course I want you here.”

There was a long pause before Jen said, quieter this time, “I can’t fucking do this without you.”

“But you won’t talk to me! Why won’t you just talk to me?”

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Jude! Fuck, you know I’m not good at this!” She was yelling now, pacing around the kitchen with her hand dragging through her hair.

“I need you to talk to me,” Judy all but whispered, “because you fuck me and then won’t even look me in the eye in the morning.” 

Jen’s whole body seemed to freeze and her eyes suddenly widened in horror. Something unspeakable had just crawled its way to daylight. 

Almost instantly, Judy was by her side, staring up at her with tears falling down her cheeks. Tentatively, she reached up and wiped one away from Jen’s, too. 

“Please, Jen. Why can’t we speak about this?” 

Jen allowed the contact for a moment, and then something seemed to flash across her face and she stormed away again, turning her back for a moment before she reached out her arms in frustration.

“Because I’m fucking in love with you! There, is that what you wanted to hear?” 

The whole room could have set on fire.

Judy’s heart was suddenly racing in her chest; her palms were sweaty and she couldn’t bring herself to move. She knew her mouth had fallen open ever so slightly, and her eyes were firmly planted on Jen’s face – Jen’s face that now slowly seemed to soften, her eyes falling to the floor and her lips curling downwards in a frown. 

“Fuck,” Judy vaguely heard Jen mutter to the floor.

And this was different to her dreaming; this was different to the way Charlie’s words ricocheted through her mind as she tried to sleep, or the way she convinced herself in the dark of night as she pressed a kiss to Jen’s thigh that she really could feel the same way. This was proof, in broad daylight, that Jen loved her. She was _in love_ with her.

“You’re in love with me?” She couldn’t help the disbelief that curled her words an octave higher than usual.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Yes, you did.”

Jen groaned, just audibly, before she shook her head at the floor to try and stop the tears that Judy could see now, flowing more heavily down her cheeks.

“Jen, are you serious?” 

Judy watched as Jen closed her eyes, squeezing them shut as if to brace herself for what she was about to say. In this moment, she looked so fragile; Judy wanted to hold her and never let go.

“Please, Judy, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I can never fucking talk about my feelings and I’m always so fucking angry. And God, for making you feel unwanted like every other fucking asshole on the planet.” 

Judy was reminded all too suddenly of the day in the garage all those months ago. It felt visceral, the way the scene came back to her: Jen’s face contorted in pain and tears, the way Judy had stormed out, how Jen had followed. How Jen had yelled and Judy had screamed and they ended up in each other’s arms anyway, because that’s where they belonged. Because the alternative didn’t seem to exist as a possibility.

It seemed fitting that they ended up wrapped in each other on the couch, Jen sobbing into Judy’s shoulder as Judy held her, rocking her back and forth.

When Jen’s tears seemed to finally abate, Judy spoke up.

“Jen, what really happened with Charlie?”

For a moment, she wasn’t sure if Jen understood her meaning. But then she sat up to meet her gaze, her hands wiping at her cheeks and under her nose. Despite it all, Jen let out a small laugh.

“Fuck,” she breathed, tucking a strand of her behind her ear, “you really wanna know?”

Judy nodded.

“He said I was in love with you,” she said after a long pause. “He said I wrote you a fucking _love letter._ I mean, gross.”

Judy couldn’t help the smile that lit up her face. “He told me the same thing.”

“He said that? The little shit.”

“The _perceptive_ little shit.”

“Yeah, yeah, still a little shit.”

For a moment, Judy let herself bask in the easiness of this back and forth, like things hadn’t just changed irrevocably. Levity always did feel a little like home to them.

“Fuck. I don’t know how to do this, Judy. I don’t know how to be a good person.”

“You _are_ a good person. I wish you could see yourself how I see you.”

“No, Judy. I’ve treated you like shit. All because I couldn’t fucking admit that I love you. I’m a fucking coward.”

“I love you, too.”

“What?”

“I hadn’t said it back,” she smiled, “I love you, too.”

“Jesus, you’re too fucking good for me.”

“Don’t tell me what I’m too good for,” she smirked, pushing Jen’s face playfully.

“But seriously, Jude. I shouldn’t have freaked out like that, okay? I should have just fucking talked to you, about… everything. I’ve never felt like this before with, you know,” she gestured vaguely towards Judy with a nod of her head. 

“I know,” Judy smiled, honestly. After all, hadn’t she once freaked out about this same thing?

And when Jen smiled back, all at once, it felt like she could finally breathe again.

  
  


*****

  
  
The kisses Jen pressed to the nape of Judy’s neck felt different that night. Now, each flick of her tongue and soft touch of her hand felt deliberate, like they had all the time in the world. And this time, after the glow of the orgasm had worn off and Judy’s head was resting softly against Jen’s shoulder, she leaned into the warmth and summoned enough courage to say, “I think we should go to therapy.”

“Jesus, was the sex that bad? I thought we had a good thing going here,” Jen almost snorted, leaning back against the headboard.

“Jen, I’m being serious!” 

Judy lifted her own head and looked up at Jen with a small pout on her lips.

“Like, fucking couple’s counselling? Because I love you, Jude, but I’m not exactly ready to hand over my money to some fucking 30 year old shrink with daddy issues and a coffee addiction to talk about how much I like eating pussy.”

“No, no, like separately,” Judy managed through her own laughter, “and there are some really good ones, I promise. I’d find you the best, obviously.”

They were quiet for a moment, and Judy couldn’t help the way her breathing slowed as Jen dragged interlocking patterns across her arm. 

“Okay,” Jen finally muttered, almost a whisper. At first, Judy wasn’t sure if she had imagined it.

“Really?”

“Yeah. It’s probably time I saw someone more qualified than fucking Pastor Wayne.”

Judy couldn’t contain the smile that almost made her bounce on the spot. She grabbed Jen’s face with both hands and planted a kiss firmly on her lips, and despite the fact it was mostly teeth, she thought it might be the best kiss she’d ever had.

When she finally leaned back enough to catch her breath, Jen whispered into her temple, “I want this, Judy, I mean it. I’m all in.”

They didn’t get much sleep that night.

  
  


*****

  
  


It didn’t take long for both Jen and Judy to realise they had to tell Charlie and Henry sooner rather than later. After everything, the least they could do was be honest about this new step in their relationship. And really, Charlie _had_ played his own small part in making this happen, so they had both agreed he deserved to be told properly. (He had almost walked in on something less than pretty a few days ago, and Jen had commented that even her new therapist couldn’t erase _that_ vision from Charlie’s mind.)

Judy had packed a picnic and a few arts supplies to take to the beach for an afternoon in the sun, mostly because she had insisted they deserved some family time, but also because she knew that Jen was itching to get this over with as soon as possible.

Jen insisted on eating before anyone made it to the ocean (despite the fact Judy could tell Henry was fidgeting to swim), and for a moment, Judy let herself watch her family, curled up on a picnic blanket that would most likely never be clean of sand again, her sketchbook open and gently blowing in the soft breeze. She thought this was where serenity ended and began: in the soft lines of Jen’s face as the sun shone down on her, the sound of the waves hitting the shore and the loud shouts of children fading into the background. She knew when she got home, she could finish her family portrait.

“So, there’s something we’ve been meaning to tell you guys,” Judy began shortly after they had finished eating. She could feel Jen freeze up beside her and she quickly reached out to leave a comforting hand on her thigh. “And before we tell you, I just want you to know, your Dad loved you very much, and I could never replace him—”

“Judy and I are together,” Jen blurted out in a rush, and perhaps Judy was grateful, because mentioning Ted had suddenly sent her heart rate skyrocketing and she wasn’t sure the look on Charlie’s face was at all a positive sign.

“About fucking time.” “You weren’t already?”

The boys’ reactions came instantaneously, and Judy couldn’t help the way her heart exploded in her chest at the relief that flooded Jen’s face.

“Seriously Mom, did you think that was news?” Charlie rolled his eyes.

“Alright, don’t be a fucking dick, Char. It took a lot for me to tell you, okay?”

“So does that mean Judy is really like our other Mom now?” Henry asked, his eyes lit up with excitement.

Jen turned to Judy, bringing her own hand to rest gently over Judy’s on her thigh. “Yeah, boop. I think it does.”

“Awesome!” he yelled, jumping to Judy’s side of the blanket to envelope her in a hug. “So you _really_ won’t ever leave?”

The tears clouded Judy’s eyes before she had time to blink them away. Through her blurred vision, she could just about make out the way Charlie, too, looked up at her expectantly.

“Uh-huh, you’re stuck with me.”

And that was it; nothing more needed to be said. Henry rushed off to play in the sea with Charlie soon trailing behind, and Jen turned to Judy and placed a chaste kiss on her lips, not bothering to check who was watching. 

Judy couldn’t remember the last time her life had felt so much like peace.

*****

The portrait she had been working on suddenly seemed to finish itself; a few dashes of blue and purple and suddenly it was complete, in equal parts joy and chaos. Despite the fact she hadn’t changed from her paint-splattered overalls and she was pretty sure she now had temporary pink streaks in her hair, she called Jen and the boys into the guesthouse to unveil her creation. She was nervous, bouncing a little too much on the balls of her feet, and the hand on the small of her back – calm and steady – seemed to tell her Jen knew it, too.

“Okay, I have a surprise for you.”

“You’ve been painting!” Henry’s excitement was so pure, so earnest, that Judy could only smile wider. She turned to the canvas, which for the moment faced away from the three curious eyes that followed Judy’s every movement, and she took a moment to look at her work. Glancing from the canvas to her family in front of her, she felt an unfamiliar feeling of pride blossom in her chest. 

“I have! I’ve been working on this for a while now, and I think it’s finally ready,” she smiled, gesturing for the three of them to take a look. “Voila!”

“Oh my god, Judy. It’s incredible,” Jen breathed, and Judy thought her voice sounded a lot like love. There was that pride again, warm and tingly and unfurling ever so gently above her ribcage.

“I _love_ it!” Henry looked up at her, his mouth slightly agape.

“Yeah, it’s really fucking good,” Charlie added, and Judy could tell he was telling the truth (he had the same look of astonishment in his eyes that Jen did. She loved that look.)

All of a sudden, she noticed that Jen had gone uncharacteristically quiet, and when she looked up she saw the beginnings of tears forming in her eyes.

“Jen!” She quickly reached up to rub a thumb across her cheek. Just like that, Jen began to cry harder.

“Fuck, I’m sorry I’m being gross, but it’s really fucking beautiful, Jude,” she said between small sobs, “I love you so much.”

Judy threaded the fingers of one hand through Jen’s and softly cupped her cheek with the other, bringing her in for a quick kiss.

“Oh, gross. Jesus, Mom, really?” She could hear Charlie groaning, and Henry was giggling, and she could feel more than she could see Jen moving her arm to flip him off. (She vaguely let herself register that she wasn’t entirely sure _who_ Charlie was referring to. The thought made her own eyes more than a little damp.)

Before they all made their way back into the main house, Charlie hovered at the door. He was pulling at his sleeves and his eyes barely lifted from the floor, but then he turned to Judy, took a deep breath and said, “I forgive you.”

This time, no crack of lightning followed his words; there was no sensation that the walls might cave in, no ringing in her ears and no burning in her chest, but simply something comforting, something like a warm blanket draped over your shoulders or a night of uninterrupted sleep. 

“Thank you,” she said earnestly. She wasn’t sure he would ever know how much she meant it, but she promised herself she would continue each day to try and prove it.

“I’m sorry you felt so bad, and like, took the blame. That’s really fucked up.”

Without responding any further, Judy instead wrapped her arms around his body, relishing in the fact that this time his own reached around her back and held her tight.

That evening, curled up on the couch with her family on an ordinary Wednesday evening, watching as Jen playfully ruffled Charlie’s hair and Henry leaned his head onto her shoulder, Judy thought maybe she had been wrong about karma, after all. She thought maybe this felt a lot less like fate, and everything like the pursuit of happiness. Like maybe this _wasn’t_ preordained, written in the stars, or dropped on her doorstep when she was least expecting it. But instead, this was a vow: to choose one another, through each and every argument, through every mistake that left a new scar scorched on skin, because this was what it meant to truly love someone. This was what it meant to build a family. 

And when Jen looked up to give her a wink, reaching over to squeeze Judy’s hand in hers, she knew with certainty that Jen knew it too. 

**Author's Note:**

> @fondalesbian on twitter x


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